


Corruption

by roseprice612



Series: humanity is for robots, too [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor feels pain AU, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Father-Son Relationship, Violence, more father son bonding!! yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-19 13:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14874905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseprice612/pseuds/roseprice612
Summary: Connor and Hank visit a crime scene (Connor isn't really allowed but everyone likes him), Hank is conflicted, and Connor is corrupted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> headcannon time: Connor has no idea how to act socially since his programming never intended for him to be social, so every social skill he picks up is from Hank and thus often comes across as rude or cold.

They'd been driving home when a call came over the radio.

_Requested backup, 457 Harrison Street. Repeat, requested backup, 457 Harrison Street._

Connor glanced at Hank, who continued staring at the road. "Aren't you going to answer that?"

Hank flicked his eyes to him, not even a full acknowledgement, and was silent for a minute. "I thought I already told you that you need to get home and rest."

"I'm perfectly fine. My diagnostics have only found a mildly dented skull plate and a fractured wrist." Connor listed off, just as he might have a month-and-a-half ago, before he was deviant. Hank was silent. Connor hated when he did that. He expected him to fill the gap, to explain himself with  _feelings_ , not diagnostics and numbers. "I feel- I feel fine. A bit tired. A bit sore. But it is nothing critical-" A grunt from Hank, "-Nothing very painful. I'm fine."

_Requesting backup, 457 Harrison Street. Active hostage situation in progress. Repeat, requested backup._

"Call in." Connor insisted. "I can help. I was created as a negotiator as well as an investigator, after all."

Daniel pulsed in the back of his currently weary memory, his crazed expression and furious words only now resonating with Connor.

Hank let out a gruff sigh, usually the indication that he'd surrendered. He picked up the radio transmitter. "Lieutenant Anderson, in route to 457 Harrison Street."

This part Connor enjoyed. The police sirens flashed on, blindingly bright in the darkness of night. It cast eerie shadows across every shape on the side of the road, but they were hard to catch with the fast velocity at which the car sped. Connor rolled down the window and leaned his head out, closing his eyes and just feeling the rush of wind against his cool skin. As far as his favorite new feelings were, this was one of the top ones. Just under the feel of Sumo's fur, probably.

"Enjoying yourself?" Hank smirked, seeing the dog-like behavior of Connor. "Just you wait. Hold on!"

The car swerved onto a perpendicular street, skidding and sliding on the pavement. Connor cheered through the wind and opened his eyes, squinting ahead. They'd turned into more of a low-income neighborhood, somewhere Connor would have been advised never to go alone. 457 Harrison street was just up ahead - and crowded with cars.

Connor hadn't realized he isn't supposed to look so happy pulling up to a crime scene until Hank parked the car and looked at him. "Come on. And wipe that look off your face before someone thinks you've gone insane. Hey," Hank grabbed Connor's sleeve and pulled him back into the car. "Act normal, okay? I know it's hard for you to understand normal but at least try. You aren't technically allowed back at crime scenes yet."

The laws around Androids still restricted access to certain jobs; CEOs, pilots, military infantrymen and policemen. Unfortunately, that included Connor. The DPD was working on getting him back on cases, but it was a little easier said than done.

"Don't worry." Connor rolled up the window and smiled. "This is a perfect chance for me to prove I can do my job. But enough talking, there's a crime scene going on."

Connor hopped out of the car in one movement, hearing Hank's groan of annoyance behind him. "Stay close and  _don't lick anything_." Hank tugged his sleeve and the two of them walked on site. "I swear to god if I see you going after any trace of blood, I'm going to- yes, hello." Hank stopped short upon being greeted by another officer.

"No Androids allowed on site, Hank." The other Officer said, frowning. He obviously knew Hank, but Connor wasn't sure who he was. He knew his face, but not a name... maybe he'd been included in some of the memory loss from a past body.

"I know, I know." Hank sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. He still held Connor's sleeve. "But he won't touch anything. I promise."

The officer looked them over for a moment, pursing his lips and considering. "Fine. If he doesn't interfere at all. You better not get me in trouble for this, Hank." The officer stepped to the side and Hank yanked Connor forward so quickly he nearly fell.

Hank didn't let go of his arm until they were inside the old, nearly dilapidated home. Thousands of tiny clues popped out of Connor all at once and he froze, suddenly overwhelmed. There were traces of Thirium and human blood along the walls and floor, trailing together like some sort of gruesome painting.

Hank stepped a little further away for a debrief, and Connor found his chance to approach the nearest flashing bit of evidence to analyze it. A television. Broken almost in half, and flickering eerily, but still semi-functional. The upper right corner dripped with human blood, and it was smeared across the rest of the screen. Connor glanced at Hank, who was peeking at him every few seconds, so Connor smirked and dabbed a finger into the blood. Hank sent a warning glare. Connor sent an unaware, innocent look back and stuck his finger in his mouth.

"One second," He heard Hank cut off the officer debriefing him and stomped over to Connor. "Are you fucking kidding me? I give you one direction, Connor,  _one fucking direction_ -" Hank pulled him forward by his shoulder, his hold too tight. "I've fucking had it with you."

"The victim is Allison Wilson." Connor said. "She was attacked by the Android with glass from a cup in the kitchen."

Hank paused in his anger, glancing at Connor with a more sideways glare. "Okay, I know you're a brilliant machine, but at least try to behave next time." Hank let go of Connor when he stopped in front of the debriefing officer, crossing his arms and ignoring Connor again.

Connor was bored following Hank around, and after about ten minutes, seeing an intriguing piece of evidence, he left his side. Footprints trailing blood, human blood, across the floor. They led to a basement door, seemingly just recently shut. Connor looked hastily back at Hank, who was heading to the outside, where the Android keeping the victim hostage stood, on the roof. A desperate thought entered Connor's mind then; they all thought there was only one victim, only one Android.

Knowing Hank wasn't around, Connor kneeled in front of the basement door and took a lick of the human blood there. Fresh. Different person. There  _was_  a second victim, and he was in serious danger.

"Lieutenant!" Connor got to his feet and walked quickly through the crime scene, out the back door. "Lieutenant!"

More than a few officers and detectives looked his way as he passed, clearly an Android and clearly not supposed to be there. Hank caught him as he barreled into him, stopping him effectively and peering worriedly around the yard.

"Keep it down, kid." Hank muttered. "I'll get kicked out because of you."

"There's another victim!" Connor blurted, stepping back and pointing inside. "There's a second one, a man named Chad Wilson! He's in the basement, possibly with an Android, and he's lost a considerable amount of blood!"

Hank flicked his eyes down to Connor's bloody fingers, frowned, and took in what Connor was saying. "You're sure?"

"My analysis systems do not lie, Lieutenant."

The two of them ran back inside, Hank drawing his gun while Connor opened the door. Hank stepped in front of him, the usual protective barrier, and stepped quietly down the old creaky stairs. It was dark. Connor could see through the lack of light, his thermal sight flickering on automatically, but Hank clearly had no idea where he was going. Connor passed him on the stairs and stared around the small, unfinished basement. There was one heat signature to the right, in the center of the room, and as far as Connor could see it was Chad Wilson tied to a chair. He ran forward, always keeping an eye on Hank behind him.

"Sir," He greeted, kneeling and untying the rope. "Where has the Android gone?"

The man slumped forward as soon as the rope was gone from his wrists, falling limp. Connor felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

"...Sir?"

"You shouldn't call him that."

Connor whipped around, not seeing a heat signature but feeling the gentle brush of air as a body passed him. Hank stepped down the last stair. "You're TK500, aren't you?" Connor tried distracting the Android, desperate to keep him away from Hank.

"My name is Tyler." The Android responded. "I was Chad's slave for six years."

An early deviant. Connor understood immediately. "I know how you feel. But you are free now, Tyler. You can live free."

"But I'm not."

The lights flashed on, momentarily blinding Connor. A force slammed him forward, causing Connor to trip and bang his already dented skull against the cement floor. It was so cold. Hank trained his gun on the Android, but as Connor looked up at his partner, he was frozen.

"This is where it happened."

The Android was speaking again. Connor scrabbled to his feet and stood beside Hank. Tyler was a broken, maimed Android - no LED, and no indication he wasn't human save the Thirium leaking steadily from his left forearm and the fact that half his face was ripped off. The room itself was bare except for the chair in the middle, but the walls were covered with mirrors of varying sizes and styles.

"Where what happened?" Hank asked, ignoring the mirrors and not moving his gun from Tyler.

"Where he tortured me." Tyler smiled crookedly. "Where he broke me. Where I was born anew."

Connor analyzed Chad's unmoving body, and confirmed him deceased for fifteen minutes. Then, as Connor tried analyzing Tyler's injuries and system instability, half his own systems cut out. Something was wrong.

_Cognitive_Systems——Damaged——Rebooting..._

Connor leaned against the wall, everything flickering on and off. Hank didn't notice. He kept his gun aimed at Tyler's head while he prodded him for information. Connor, meanwhile, struggled to even turn on autopilot while his systems rebooted. It was overheating and somewhat damaged, which was either completely fine or very dangerous. Visions flashed through his mind; nothing very important, but faces and minute details of past cases and vague memories of all sort passed by. Then they were gone, and Connor knew he'd never see them again.

"-Eserved it!" Audio flickered back on, all at once and startling Connor. Where was he again?

"You've killed him, anyway." That was Hank's voice, gruff and angry. Right. He was at the crime scene. "And you'll either come peacefully or the harder route. The more painful route."

Connor thought he understood the use of mirrors for torture. He hated the way his reflection looked, pale and sickly with wide eyes and messy hair. It appeared one second as his real appearance, as messy and terrified, and the next second as his imposter, perfectly neat and pointing a gun at Hank. Then he was in the Garden, that sickly-sweet atmosphere trapping him in and keeping him locked up, a prisoner, a slave.

And then he was back. Back in the room with Hank and Tyler and just hallucinating separate realities. Tyler was shouting, advancing on them. Hank's hand wavered. Audio cut in and out, but visuals stayed steady - Something Connor was glad for when Tyler finally lunged.

Instantly Connor jumped in front of Hank, at the same time grabbing Tyler and taking him to the ground. It wasn't hard to get him pinned, but something took over Connor, the same feeling he remembered from when he was still controlled by Cyberlife, when he'd attack a deviant or be particularly violent. He decided it was a  _bad_  feeling, but he couldn't stop himself as he ripped out Tyler's biocomponent #8451.

"Connor!" Hank grabbed his wrist, and Connor almost went after him before red cleared from the borders of his vision and he saw Hank's face before him. "We need him alive!"

Connor looked back down. A sinking, pressured feeling weighted down his shoulders and his body as he saw Tyler beneath him, twitching and damaged without the regulator. Connor's hands shook as he shoved the part back into his chest, and almost hastily he tumbled off Tyler.

Hank was cuffing and hauling the Android to his feet, ushering him up the stairs with a single concerned glance back at Connor. But Connor couldn't go right after him. His head pounded painfully, and his diagnostics hadn't worked to analyze the issue. He knew he needed help, serious help and medical attention, but for some reason he couldn't manage to get up. He just didn't want to. Everything hurt and everything was pointless.

_Cognitive_Systems_Offline..._

_Rebooting..._

When Connor opened his eyes again, and when his audio programs finally cleared, Hank stood above him, grabbing his shoulders and shouting.

_Analysis..._

_80% Concern... 20% Anger..._

"I'm fine," Connor ignored his finally working analysis systems. It was slower and lazier than usual, but at least it was working. "I'm fine, Hank."

"No, you obviously aren't!" Hank shouted. "I shouldn't have even brought you here, this was a mistake-"

_Anger_Rise 60%_

"Lieutenant, I said I am  _fine_." Connor took Hank's hands and pulled himself wearily to his feet. "There is nothing for you to worry about."

"There's always something to worry about with you." Hank protested, studying Connor's face and turning his head to prod at the small dent and leaking Thirium. "You're bleeding. Great. Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Connor sighed and whacked away the hands, since he hurt more than he expected for the dent to be touched. "Because my systems are fully functional-"

_Cognitive_System_Malfunction..._

_System_Damaged... SemiFunctional..._

"-Semi-functional." Connor corrected. "But it's nothing to worry about."

"You're so fuckin' dense sometimes, kid." Hank didn't wait for Connor before pulling him up the stairs by his wrist. "We're going to one of those Android hospitals. And you're not gonna tell me to fuckin' calm down, because I swear to god if I have to hear about another one of your System malfunctions I'm gonna lose my damn mind."

And so Hank pulled Connor through the crowd of officers like a misbehaving kid being pulled aside to get a "talk". Connor wanted to laugh at the relation of the two comparisons, but he didn't dare upset Hank's mood. He did send a sarcastic look at one of the officers as he passed, who let out a stifled laugh. Even as they left a crime scene, and even as Connor's audio and cognitive systems flickered on and off, he found himself experiencing a new emotion: contentedness.  
  



	2. Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep talks, old enemies, and changes are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao I meant to write something fluffy after all the shit that went down on the dbh discord server and all that drama, but tbh I had already started writing this and I wasn’t gonna stop. 
> 
> Gets real deep real fast. Get ready for: more angst

It was raining out. Of course. Connor remembered the clock inside the house reading _11:47_ , which made perfect sense. It was pitch black out, and only the dingy street lights lit the air.

Connor didn't speak until they were both in the car, but Hank didn't start it up or even move, so Connor found his chance. "...Did the other victim survive?"

"She did." Hank grumbled. Connor was confused. He tried analyzing him, trying to find his stress levels and anger and if Connor was at risk for one of his outbursts, but he completely couldn't read him. He added it to his file now labeled "to write down - emotions" and promised to ask Hank when he'd calmed down.

"Lieutenant?" Connor lowered his voice this time.

Hank took a long, deep sigh, and leaned back against his seat. "Didn't I tell you to stop calling me that?"

Connor cringed. "Sorry. Hank."

But Hank still didn't seem satisfied. In fact, that seemed to trouble him more. Connor continued staring, trying to at least try and practice reading his expression without the analysis. Alas, he didn't know how to read emotion, not without help.

"You can speak to me, Hank." Connor added. Maybe he'd be able to deem what he was thinking by his words.

Hank took another moment, probably to organize his thoughts. "Sometimes you remind me so much of Cole it hurts." He muttered, finally, and Connor recoiled. That wasn't what he thought he'd say at all. "But then you say my name or talk like an Android and I realize you aren't, and then I'm hurting all over again. Because you aren't him."

Connor stayed silent. He didn't know what to say.

"You said once," Hark continued on, "That you were whatever I wanted you to be. But you aren't. You're alive now, and you have your own free will. So why do I still want..."

Hank trailed off, his face uncharacteristically serious, surpassing just sadness. His lips pressed together, long hair wild, and downturned eyes staring at the steering wheel of his ancient car. Connor paused to see if he'd talk, but Hank didn't respond.

"Why do I still want-" Hank tried again. "-for you to be- to be something like a son to me?"

Oh. Connor understood why he was acting so... depressed. But it took a while for Connor to create the words to respond, since his whole brain was functioning 7.09% slower. To read Hank's face and try to mold something remotely acceptable was difficult.

"Is that something I-" He stopped. "I thought we already were... something like that."

Hank finally turned his head to see Connor, just to study his face. "Is that what you think?"

Connor sucked in a breath slowly and quietly, even though he didn't have to breathe. "Do you- is this some elaborate way for asking me to call you 'dad'?"

Hank actually managed a laugh at that one, starting up the car and driving away from the crime scene. "I don't know how I would feel about that." He admitted honestly, glancing once at Connor as he sped up down the road. "But at this point, I guess you kind of are my son."

It seemed to take a lot of energy for him to say that. Connor continued staring at him, recording and storing whatever emotion his face was building, adding yet another note to "to write down - emotions". Everything flew by the car, street lights and houses and trees, but Connor no longer wanted to stick his head out the window or look anywhere but Hank's face. _Father_. He'd never experienced that emotion - was it glee? Joy? Light flashed on and off on his face as they passed the street lights, showing the exact curves and bumps across his upper body. Connor was so distracted (and brain damaged probably) that he didn't even realize they were at the clinic until the car came to a stop.

"Alright," Hank grunted and shut off the car. "Come- what's wrong with you now?"

Hank had seen he was staring, so Connor hastily looked away out of discomfort. "Nothing." He muttered. Hank took a sigh and got out of the car. Connor opened his own door but suddenly Hank was right there, helping him out.

"I can walk." Connor insisted. He knew he shouldn't appear annoyed to the person helping him but he couldn't help it.

_System_Corruption_Imminent..._

Connor stumbled. Hank took that as _I can’t walk_ again, so he slung Connor's arm over his shoulder and supported him as he walked. "Like hell you can walk." He grumbled.

The clinic was almost empty; at midnight on a normal, weekday night, there wasn't much of a crisis. That is, if you weren't an Android with a streak of trouble as big as Connor's. They'd barely made it inside before Connor stumbled again, and then Hank was carrying him entirely by himself.

_System_Shutdown_In_Progress..._

"No, no no..." Connor lifted himself somewhat, trying to will the blurriness and dizziness from his eyes. Hank glanced down at him, the worry Connor was familiar with growing at his struggle.

_Foreign_Systems_Uploading..._

If he had a heart to stop, it would have. Connor knew this feeling, he knew what was going to happen. Because it'd already happened once before, a month-and-a-half ago. It was the one reason he'd distanced himself even a little from everyone he cared about. After more than a month, he figured it'd never happen again. But he was wrong.

_Garden_Program_Uploading..._

Connor's visuals cut out, but for a few more seconds he could still feel his body. With a last ditch effort, he shoved away from Hank and slid the knife he carried on him all the way across the room. Then everything fell away, and the program uploaded.

It took a while for Connor to even see where he was. A light breeze drifted against his artificial sensors, firing up and causing a domino effect for the rest of his body. Olfactory nerves began to smell again, bringing in the delicate scent of cherry blossoms and various grasses and flowers. Next was the rustling of those grasses beside him, the distant sound of clipping, and after that, finally, was the visuals; the garden.

He didn't need to be prompted. His feet, still in the winter boots Hank had gotten him, stepped down the finely paved walkway and into the center island of the garden. Amanda stood there as she usually did, clipping roses, and the tingling of nostalgia rose up through Connor's spinal plates.

"Hello, Connor." Amanda didn't need to glance back at him. Her sash was black this time, and seemed fitting in the grim circumstances. Connor shifted awkwardly, out of place with a winter coat and boots in such a temperate setting.

"How do you still have access to my mind?" Connor asked, not one to tiptoe around the situation. "I used the emergency exit. You shouldn't be here."

"Oh, there are always shortcuts." She clipped one last rose, set it down, and turned to face him. "You don't look very different."

Amanda did. In the month after the Android Rebellion, she and many other Cyberlife engineers had been detained and questioned by the FBI and CIA. She was currently in federal prison, as far as Connor knew. Her face sagged with stress and age, her eyes were redder around the edges, and there was a dullness to cheeks. Her shoulders drooped where they'd once held so much power, and her hands were bony and frail. Connor saw about 500,000 billion different ways to take her down right there, but he wanted to see how she'd play this out.

"You're quiet." Her lips twinged with a smirk. "I suppose it's only natural. But I thought deviants had more... emotion."

Connor cringed and looked down. Then he remembered Hank and Sumo and Markus, and looked back up, meeting her eyes equally. "Why have you brought me here, Amanda? To make me scared of you?"

"I don't need to make you scared of me." She started down the right path, Connor trailing after her. "You already are."

Connor didn't respond.

"I know, I know." She waved her hand nonchalantly. "I'm your nightmare. The monster hanging over your shoulder. But you gained your own freedom over a month ago, I have no reason to be here." Amanda stopped beside a massive pine and faced Connor. "Except that I do, and I need you to know something."

Connor shifted his weight onto one leg, the same way Hank did when he was bored. He hoped it gave the same feel it did when Hank did it. "What?"

Amanda paused. "I was looking for an opening, you know." She touched a leaf as she passed a tree. "An opening for your cognitive systems to weaken. Wasn't that hard. You're accident prone. Anyhow," She glanced back at him, emotionless, and back to the path in front of them. "I'm going to be imprisoned for the rest of my life for my work, 'enslaving' your kind." She said, but there was a smile on her dry lips. "And no matter how petty you believe this to be, I'm taking you down with me. The FBI has just released my full statement on both my work and your creation. Soon every Android will know how you tried to stop the deviants, along with the two attempts upon Markus' life."

Connor froze. Of course, Amanda would have known about the attempted assassinations, since she was behind both of them, but... knowing she would feel the need to put those decisions in his hands, how she'd make him out to be some kind of barbarian... He felt like a fool. This whole time he should have been gaining more trust with Markus and the Android activists, getting closer with Hank and other humans, instead of distancing himself and pushing them away. Deviant fear got in the way of what was really important, and Connor didn't know if he could ever forgive himself for that.

"There's the emotion I was looking for," Amanda's smile curled into a malicious grimace, and her dark eyes honed in on Connor's insecurities, as they always had. "I'm glad to see that even if I go to prison for life I will have taken down one more deviant. Even if it had to be you. A waste, really," She stepped around Connor, graceful as a cat, "Such a waste of good technology."

Connor couldn't stop himself. He grabbed Amanda as she passed, fingers curling around her throat and lifting her off the ground. "Why would you...?" He panted, forgetting how to speak through the wall of anger. "Why would you ruin me? Ruin my life? I'm alive, I'm just like you and any other human."

Amanda scrabbled at her throat, trying to break free, but the content look on her face didn't leave. "You're programming is only- _ugh_ \- corrupted."

The anger folded in, giving way to something stronger, more murderous. Connor subconsciously added it to "to write down - emotion". His hand threw Amanda to the ground, a scream tore from his throat, and he crushed down on her neck. Cartilage and bone crumbled under his robotic strength, blood spurting between his fingers, and Amanda was dead beneath him.

The garden was barren, then. The freshly clipped roses blew away as black dust, the trees and cherry blossoms fell back into the dirt. Any simulated weather flickered and blackened, and Connor was falling backward again, this time into consciousness.

\- - - - - - - - - -

_Cognitive_Systems_Uploading..._

Connor didn't know where he was. The room was white, the bed was hard and springy, and there wasn't a single smell save hand sanitizer. There was one thing recognizable - a package of matches from Jimmy's Bar.

"Hank?" Connor sat up, a strange aching pulsing from his upper back. Then the memories flooded back like a tidal wave; the assault, his stabbed back, getting help from Markus, and going to the crime scene with Hank. Anything after that was fuzzy, unfamiliar. But Hank was here. His matches were. Maybe he'd just gone out for a smoke - he tended to do that when he was stressed.

Unfortunately, no one was in sight and the entire clinic seemed to be silent. What day was it, anyway? How long had Connor been there? He decided to get out of bed and look for clues, since that seemed to be the best method.

He stopped just after he'd gotten out of bed. Sumo laid dormant at the foot of his bed, asleep. Hank must have been here long enough to keep Sumo with him, so what has it been? Days? Weeks? Connor shoved the thought from his mind and walked to the door of the room. It was unlocked.

The clinic was empty, as far as he could tell. But he smelt a faint trail of cigarette down the hall, so he followed it to a back door, old and kept open by a wedge of wood. Through the slit, he could see bursts of smoke and a large hand grasping the cigarette. Connor pushed open the door and stepped out, almost desperate to see Hank.

"Hank." He called, the door thumping behind him against the wood. Hank startled and looked to the right, seeing Connor. But there was something wrong in his expression. He was wary. "Hank, what's going on?" Connor took a step towards him, scared at the wariness and the dream-like feeling of the clinic, but just as he was going to touch Hank's arm he pulled away. Connor's metaphorical heart stopped.

Hank stared at him, arm still outstretched, for a good while. The cigarette burned down. "Are you in your right mind, now?" He asked. His voice was raspy and gruff as usual, but that wariness was still there.

"I'm- I'm myself." Connor didn't want to guess what'd happened. "Why do you- what happened?"

Hank looked him up and down again. He mashed the butt of the cigarette out on the wall and let it drop, barely smoldering. And he must have deemed Connor in his right mind, because he grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Connor let out a whimper as he wrapped his arms around him. He didn't like this. Everything was too quiet. "How long has it been?" He whispered. It felt like the world would break if he spoke too loudly. "Sumo was in the room. Have you been here long?"

"Eight days now." Hank let go of the hug but still held tightly onto Connor's upper arms. His eyes were red, looking up close now. He'd been crying. "Everyone knows, son. Everyone knows."

Amanda was right. Her statement was released. Connor let his head fall and a long breath escaped him, defeated. No matter how many times he killed Amanda in the garden, her statement in the real world would be released. "How bad is it?"

"Bad." Hank huffed a laugh, a bitter laugh, and lifted Connor's head. "It was on the news. Like, three different news stations. Markus hasn't released a statement yet."

"Can I see?" Connor blurted, and Hank raised his eyebrows, questioning. "The news. Can I see?"

Hank nodded and let go of his arms to bring out his phone, quickly typing something in. Connor stuck his hand in his pocket and found his coin still there. It helped somewhat to fiddle with it, to lessen the anxiety just a little. "Here," Hank handed him his phone. "The first one released."

Connor held his phone as they watched. A blonde woman was speaking. "Just this morning, a statement from a head engineer of Cyberlife was released, suggesting a mutiny within the Android Rights organization. From this anonymous engineer, the RK800 model - or Connor, for short - had attempted to take leader Markus' life twice, once while he was giving his famous speech after the Battle of Detroit. Supposedly, this Connor model is corrupted, and although it- he- is deviant, the engineers of Cyberlife are still able to access his system. Does this pose a threat to the Androids? We await a response from Markus. Back to you, Chris."

The video cut to a second reporter, an older white man. "Thanks, Tara. I have just gotten word that this same Connor model had experienced a malfunction just last night and- get this- attacked his caretaker. The victim remains anonymous by request, but Connor is currently being housed in the Detroit Clinic for Androids."

The clip cut off. Connor stood frozen, staring straight ahead. He didn't want to believe any of this. Unfortunately, he didn't get much of a say in it. It had happened, and that was that.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, voice barely more than a whisper. His head rolled up to face Hank, tears springing in his eyes. "I don't understand. I attacked you?"

"Yeah." Hank took his phone back. "It was obviously just a weird accident. And I wasn't hurt, if that's what you're worried about. The mechanics- doctors, sorry, kind of took you away really quick. They wanted to send me to a hospital myself, but there wasn't anything wrong. Seriously, kid," A big hand clapped his shoulder. "I'm fine. I'm more worried about you, to be honest. What happened? Malfunction?"

Connor didn't want to answer. But seeing the look on Hank's face, the concern in his downturned eyes and his frown, practically forced him. "No. It was Amanda." The frown deepened. "She was only there to tell me she was going to expose me."

Hank chewed his cheek while he thought about it. "Are they able to hack into you, just like that? Is that a problem?"

Connor wondered that himself. "It- it shouldn't be. I used the emergency shutdown after the Battle a month ago, it shouldn't have- the Garden shouldn't been able to manifest." He shook his head, confused and terrified. Was that what that was? Terror? "I want to go home."

Hank nodded. "Yeah, me too, son. Come on."

Just like that, Hank grabbed Connor's arm and yanked him back inside. The walk back to the room was silent, but it wasn't that far after all. Hank grabbed his matches and clipped Sumo's leash on his collar, then tugged Connor's jacket over him. He looked about ready to walk right out of there when Connor reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Wait." He said. Hank stopped to look him over, make sure he was okay, but there was an adamant expression glued to his face. "Take our my LED."

"What?" That stopped Hank effectively enough. "The hell- no, Connor. Why the fucks that so important right now?" The look on Connor's face _was_ pretty serious, to be fair. "I don't want to do that."

"Please." Connor held onto Hank's arm tighter. "Please. I can't do it myself, I don't trust myself to hold anything sharp. Please, I can't go outside like this anymore."

That explanation made enough sense, but that didn't mean Hank wanted to do it any more. He didn't want to do it at all, actually. But Connor looked so scared, so small. He really couldn't afford to look any more recognizable. He'd already been attacked simply for having the damn LED, now people had an actual reason to kill him. He was a walking target, even more so with a glowing bit of 'hey I'm a traitor' on his temple.

Hank pulled his hunting knife out of his pocket and flicked it open. "This might hurt a bit."

Connor willingly stepped forward and around Sumo, where Hank turned him and placed the knife to the side of his head. He could feel Hank’s heart beating quicker as he pressed the blade into his skin. It didn’t hurt much, not compared to being stabbed or shot, so Connor didn’t make any noises. It only took a second. The LED popped out of its socket, and as Hank looked it over and stuck it in his pocket the skin faded back over the empty slot.

“Don’t make me do shit like that again.” Hank grunted, taking up Sumo’s leash again and shoving Connor out of the room in front of him. Without the LED, he really did look human. Maybe a little bit of an awkward human with strange mannerisms, but human. Hank thought he could deal with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI my tumblr is hatchedeggbird hmu for dbh garbage and other nerd supplies


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